Butterflies
by Empress Empoleon
Summary: You had always thought that it was the nerves, the fact that you weren't sure how to think, to feel, to act, around her that made you so giddy and light-headed when she was near. / Padma, and trying to sort out her feelings.


_My love, my love, my love, my love_  
_She keeps me warm, she keeps me warm._

_-She Keeps Me Warm, Mary Lambert._

* * *

Your red nails clack nervously on the desk. You can't even remember the last time you've been so anxious.

"Padma?" You look up to find a bushy brunette, wrapped up in a white shirt and stormy pencil skirt.

"Hermione?" you accidentally blurt out before covering your mouth. You hadn't expected her to be your new boss.

"I knew there was someone new today, but I didn't know it was you," she says, smiling. She sits down and begins to shuffle through papers.

After a few mysteriously silent moments, you ask curtly, "Well? Aren't you going to interview me?"

She glances up at you, almost as if she's surprised that you're still there. "No. I know you'll do a great job," she absentmindedly remarks.

You take that as your cue to leave. Gladly, you get up and leave the stuffy room, shutting the door gingerly behind you.

* * *

Hermione Granger. You can't say you've ever known her well.

She was always the smartest girl; the brightest witch of her age. Being a Ravenclaw, competition in academics is an inborn nature in you, and always being second to a Gryffindor did not sit well with you.

Back before the war, Hermione might have been the only thing in the world you weren't sure of. With everything else, it was clear and simple, like the spells that flew out of your wand and the answers that rolled off your tongue.

But Hermione was different. You knew you had to hate her, because she was better and you have to be the best - don't you? - but she, with her bright eyes and tinkling laugh, was impossible to hate.

So you had to settle for just ignoring her, even though your heart always thumped around whenever she was close by. You had always thought that it was the nerves, the fact that you weren't sure how to think, to feel, to _act_, around her that made you so giddy and light-headed when she was near.

With a war close at hand though, the last thing on your mind was sorting out yourself about Hermione.

And now that it's all over - now that you've gone and played around with death and had your heart taken by Dean - Hermione laid forgotten in a corner of your mind - until today, that is.

* * *

Your meeting with Hermione did startle you; but coming home to Dean's comforting arms and homey scent lifts the worries of the day from your shoulders like embers of a dying fire.

"Padma?"

"Yeah?" You look up, to see him smiling the same way that used to set you all aflutter.

"I love you," he says, as if he hasn't done so already ten times.

"Me too," you cheerily answer, avoiding the word _love _for some reason.

* * *

Work has never been harder.

Sometimes you just want to scream. How can one girl seemingly shake up your life so much?

It's not just about completing the job anymore; it's about doing it so well that Hermione can't help but flash a bashful smile at her and make your breath catch.

It's not just about throwing something on and heading to work; it's about waking up at dawn to do your hair and dress up in pretty outfits so that people will notice you.

Everything you do seems to revolve around people recognizing you, people wanting you. And they do - but you're still not satisfied.

And then you realize - it's not their attention you want. It's _hers_.

_It's just mindless work_, you tell yourself._ Just me trying to get promoted._

_Wanting your boss's attention isn't anything wrong. It's completely normal._

You convince yourself of this, and make sure to give Dean a firm kiss on the lips when he comes to get you at lunch.

(He's kissing you and there are no sparks; there's just this slightly sick feeling in your stomach as Hermione pecks Ron on the cheek.)

* * *

Dean spits out his cereal, choking on the milk before turning on you with an incredulous expression.

"What," he gasps, "are you wearing?"

You look down, not understanding him. "What? What's wrong?"

"That." He gestures at your clothes. "Too much skin."

You sigh, giving him a look before going to change.

You don't notice him staring after you, wondering what went wrong there.

* * *

_It isn't that much,_ you think as you look in the mirror. Just a _very_ low, _very_ tight v-neck shirt with a short, tight pencil skirt.

But then you stop and look again. You never used to dress to impress; like you were trying to get the whistles you've been getting for the past few weeks when you walk into office, or like you were trying to accentuate your curves and chest to someone other that Dean.

Sighing, you change into a conservative sweater and jeans, and wonder who you're actually trying to impress.

* * *

Hermione looks at you in the meeting, and you can't breathe.

_What's wrong with me?_ You start to hyperventilate, unable to comprehend this odd fluttering feeling in your chest, that's spreading up from your toes to your nose-

And it comes back.

You in a flurry of snow, dancing with Dean as he twirls you and kisses your rosy cheeks. You, laying your head on Dean's sturdy chest and watching the stars. You, moving in with Dean and laughing as you splatter each other with paint.

You felt like you could fly with the amount of butterfly wings pattering about in your stomach.

Now, in this closed room with too much pressure to handle, you feel as if you can soar.

* * *

You come home and now all you feel is safe. _Sheltered._

The sparks have been fading. You were trying to ignore it, thinking it was natural to settle into love after a while. You thought you and Dean could still make it work.

But, even in you are a Ravenclaw, you still like to dapple in fire.

And who's more fiery than Hermione Granger?

* * *

"Dean?"

"Yes, Padma?" he snaps irritably as you break him from his latest painting - which happens to be the tenth one of a certain Irish boy with azure eyes dating her twin's best friend. His interest in Seamus has not escaped your attention - and maybe he knew it wouldn't.

You give him a long, sad look, and he sighs in return, before turning to dab a little more color onto Seamus's nose.

The air is stuffy and emotionless and you know where your butterflies have flown off to.

* * *

Hermione. You were never sure of her - you still aren't - but she was the one who was breaking apart you and Dean, squeezing in and taking over your entire life.

Walking into office, you feel confident, for the first time in a long time.

Hermione glances up and smiles at you.

You feel great. Butterflies are popping up everywhere, and flying off into the horizon where possibilities beyond Dean lie.

It's amazing and leaves you breathless. You might be a Ravenclaw, but you do have a secret love for the unknown.

And now, Hermione isn't just your boss, your old enemy. She's someone who makes your heart skip beats and your breath quicken and your thoughts stop, and she's done it long before Dean came into the picture.

You smile back.

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry I'm so bad at breakup!fics. (I'm not even sure if this _is _ a proper breakup.)

_Done for:_

_Quidditch Competition - Round 7 (Chaser 2; breaking Padma/Dean with Hermione, using the prompts red nails, mysteriously silent, and She Keeps Me Warm by Mary Lambert.)_


End file.
